Reversal
by Wingardium Leviosa 2137
Summary: It is no surprise, what with the Capitol's advanced technology, that they've managed to somehow traverse time and warn the Gamekeepers that Katniss and Peeta can't win the Hunger Games. Will they succeed or will love conquer?
1. Prolouge

**Disclaimer**: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected with Suzanne Collins, Scholastic Books or Lions Gate Entertainment. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

* * *

Okay now that that's out of the way... This is a story about what might've happened if the Capitol somehow knew what a stir those berries would cause and so they will do anything to keep Katniss and Peeta apart. Includes some romance, hijacking, time travel and a whole lot of fun. The first few chapters will be nearly identical to the book and then the real action will start.

* * *

Prolouge

My legs don't seem to move right as I ascend the stairs to the stage. My mind and my body are numb, the implications of my action not yet registering in my brain. It is not until Effie Trinket says, "I bet my buttons that was your sister?", do I snap into reality. It is as though everything suddenly comes into sharp focus and I'm very afraid that I'm going to cry. I have just volunteered to be in the Hunger Games. I think this sentence over and over until it is no more than words and the meaning is gone. The numbness settles over me again as I try to block out every emotion. Of course then I see Prim in the crowd, clinging to my mother, her face streaked with tears and a choked sob escapes my throat. But that doesn't matter because the cameras aren't on me anymore. They are on Effie and she stands before the boy's names, struggling to keep her wig atop her head. In her flustered state she retrieves the first slip she finds and walks back to center stage.

A moment of prolonged silence, tension, suspense. _Peeta Mellark._

Oh no. Not him.


	2. Boys

First chapter *drum roll*! If you sopt any mistakes go ahead and tell me so I can fix it! I'm also looking for a Beta soooooo yeah, talk to me!

* * *

Boys

Not the boy who had thrown me that lifeline five years ago, the bread that sustained us, gave me hope; my dandelion in the spring. I close my eyes and I can envision the rain, the smell of the burnt bread as he placed it in my hands. I remember the sincerity in his blue eyes as he tells me to take it. I do, I stuff the bread under my jacket and run all the way home.

And then there were the secret stares and smiles at school, where we would catch one another's eyes. Eventually I worked up the nerve to mutter a thank you to him in the hall. We had just been dismissed from class and there were kids, merchant and Seam alike, all around us. He leads the way to an empty corridor and I explain myself.

"For the bread, thanks." My voice seems to fail me. I am so embarrassed, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"It was nothing." I look up at him, at his crystal blue eyes and ashy blonde hair and before I know what I'm doing I kiss him on the cheek. Without a word, I turn on my heel and hurry away, a tomato red blush spreading from my cheeks down my neck.

Somehow out of that awkward beginning, we became friends. But as for me, I always wished it were more. Then the rational side of me said that was preposterous because I never wanted to get married of have a family. And so I ignored the fuzzy warm in my stomach I felt when I was with him, the blush that occasionally painted my cheeks. I loved him. I loved Peeta Mellark. But I wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even myself.

And now I had to kill him.

The crowd of boys in the sixteen year old section move away from him like he has a disease. Effie calls for volunteers. There are none. Peeta moves slowly forward and I know that behind the calm exterior he is fighting not to lose it. We are instructed to shake hands but we both go for a hug instead, as though we had planned on it all along. I throw my arms around his neck and we stand there in front of all of District 12, all of Panem, embracing one another.

This flusters Effie as she clearly hadn't expected it. "Eh hem, well yes, there you go, District 12's tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!" I don't know if she had expected applause but she receives none. Instead, slowly at first, one person and then another, all of District 12 presses their three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips, pinky and thumb touching, and raise them into the air. Peeta has let go of me and we stand side by side, watching the sea of faces. They know we are being sent to our death and so they give us their sympathy and a silent goodbye.

The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason and I can't help but wonder who would bring him strawberries after I was gone. There was a time, long ago when someone would have taken my place doing the trading, trapping, hunting, fishing and gathering in town. I had had a valuable hunting partner but I hadn't spoken a word to him in a year.

After my father died and we had gotten back on our feet I was off in the woods everyday, perfecting my skill with a bow and bringing how dinner. I had been having an off day, it was overcast and windy and there was little game to be seen when there it was. A trap I had not set contained a large rabbit. I hadn't know how to set traps then and I was fascinated by the skill with which it had been assembled. The sound of his voice caused me to jump up in the air with surprise.

"Stealing my rabbit, eh?" His voice was just deepening, being in that awkward phase of adolescence but there was a note of teasing in his voice. I had stumbled back and protested but he just collected his kill and begun to stalk off. Our next encounter, months later, had been more friendly and I learned his name. Gale Hawthorne. We became friends, best friends and we'd spend hours at a time hunting or just talking, laughing, ranting about the Capitol. We learned about the woods together and provided for our families and made connections in town, trading our game for supplies and goods.

And then came the day that I couldn't hunt because I wanted to spend time with Peeta. Gale had complained saying we needed to stock pile food for the coming months, there was no time to waste socializing, having friends, fun. His short temper came out that day like I'd never seen. He yelled and yelled and somehow it turned from a rant about me to a rant about the Capitol and how they had take any hope of entertainment from us to. Life was all work, never room for play. And so I yelled right back at him. I didn't understand why we had to throw away our whole lives trying to survive without ever really living. We had plenty food, game and wild greens were abundant that year. I stormed off and went straight to the bakery. I had made a point that day to be anywhere where Gale might see me. At the various places in town where he traded, at the Hob, in the meadow. Just shooting the breeze and not getting anything at all done.I certainly infuriated him.

A few months later, after we had both cooled off, I took Peeta to the lake, the place where only my father, myself and Gale had gone. Gale caught us there, swimming in the warm water, laying in the sun, not even a bag of greens to warrant our outing to the woods.

Things were strained after that, Gale's temper always ready to boil over. It was a hot day in August and we were seated on the rock ledge overlooking the valley. It was the day after the Reaping where two scrawny kids from the Seam had been sent to die. We didn't know either of them but it still stung to know that two of our own would be dead within the week. Seam kids never made it much longer than that.

Gale of course was in a horrible mood always going off about the Capitol and that day, I had no tolerance for it.

"Going to see your boyfriend?" He called to me as I stomped back through the under brush. That pulled me up short. The tone of his voice cut me like a knife. It was full of bitter implications and anger. And so I confronted him, asked him what his problem was. I really didn't expect him to kiss me just as I'm sure he didn't expect me to punch him in the jaw. Needless to say, we hadn't spoken since then. At first I'd hated that I'd lost him. I'd wanted to reconcile but I got over it just like I'd gotten over poverty and hunger and the death of my father.

And now I think about who will provide for my mother and Prim and I silently pray that Gale still has some warmth in his heart. If not for me then at least for them.

* * *

One review = One punch for Gale? Don't worry you Gale lovers, you might not hate me so much in the next chapter:)


	3. Goodbyes

Hey there people, I'm uber happy to see the feedback I'm getting on this, please review if you read, it means a lot to me! Enjoy!

* * *

Goodbyes

The pledge of Panem, a drunken Haymitch Abernathy- the only living victor from District 12- falling off of the stage and a wig malfunction fly by and too soon Peeta and I are ushered into the Justice Building. A Peacekeeper escorts me into a small sitting room and leaves me in there for a moment or two. Perhaps this time is to let sort out my final goodbyes, take a breath or just break down. I do none of these. My brain has been switch to off and all I feel is the numbness returning. There are too many thoughts fighting for dominance and so I choose to ignore all of them and simply sit there, mindlessly running my fingers over the velvet couch.

My mother and Prim are the first to enter the little room. Prim and eye lock eyes, blue on grey and then we are holding each other like we never want to let go. She is sobbing because I can fell her tears soaking my dress- my mother's dress actually- and that only makes it harder for me to maintain composure. I don't want to cry, I _can't _cry because my trip to the train station will be on camera and I don't want to appear weak. My mother joins our embrace, wrapping her thin arms around us both. The years of resentment for her ebb away as I realize that I may never see her again. We release each other and I look straight into the eyes of my mom which are so different from my own. I always did look exactly like my father.

"You can't clock out again, you have to be there for her." There is a steely edge in my voice and I almost wish I wasn't so harsh. "You have to do it now Prim," I say, addressing my little sister, "You have to bring home meals. You can use the book, get plants from the meadow, the edge of the woods. Go to Gale, Thom, _someone_ who can help, bring you meat, do you understand?" They both nod as though they were students and I was their teacher. "I love you, I love you both." Peacekeepers start to pull them away from me.0

"Katniss! Katniss!" Prim shrieks and she is forcefully dragged out the door. She breaks free of the man's iron grip and places her small palms on my cheeks. "You'll try to win? You have to win! Promise?"

"I promise. I promise Prim!" Then they are gone and I wonder if I will ever see them again.

My next visitor is unexpected but not unwelcome. Mr. Mellark is ushered in by the same Peacekeeper who took my sister away from me. I make sure to send him a glare before shaking hands with Mr. Mellark.

"I, I brought you these." He hands me a little white package contain a rare delicacy. On occasion he would slip Prim and I the cookies that were under or over-done, the one's no one would buy. We would sit behind the bakery, Peeta, Prim and I, and enjoy the treat. These cookies weren't like those though, they were the real thing, the one's we saw in the display window. They were perfectly round and frosted with little blue sprinkles decorating them. They were something I could never hope to afford.

I don't know why I am so touched by the gesture but it's hard for me to muster a thank you through the tears I fight to restrain. The Mellarks are always giving me food. The baker isn't a talkative man anyways and today he has no words at all. And how could he? He couldn't possibly wish me luck when that would mean the certain death of his son and he could expect me to comfort him with confidence in Peeta as that would mean my own downfall. Small talk was too trivial a thing to bother with when such daunting events were at hand so we sat in silence, mulling over thoughts and unspoken words until the Peacekeeper collects him.

"I'll make sure they're all right." He says and I give him a genuine smile. This at least is the most meaningful thing he can say.

I'm a bit shocked to see Madge, the mayor's daughter, enter the room next. We had sat together in school sometimes, talked after class but I'd never consider us close friends. I rethink that as she takes something from her dress and presses it into my hands.

"You'll wear it won't you? Every tribute gets to wear a token from their District into the arena." I look at the little pin she has given me. It is a bird, wings outstretched and neck arched, an arrow in it's beak, held to a circle by the tips of it's wings. It is made entirely of gold. With a jolt of recognition I realize that the bird is a mockingjay. This makes me think of my father and how he would sing to them and they would parrot back his song.

I was getting all sorts of gifts today. First cookies and now a pin. Madge stands on her tip toes and kisses my cheek and then she's gone too. I fasten the mockingjay to the blue fabric of my mother's dress and wonder if there was anyone else in this town who would possibly wish to see me off. I can't think of anyone but the door opens again and if I was shocked before, I am stupefied now.

Gale Hawthorne stands before me, a guilty look on his face. "Hey Catnip." He says, using his old nickname for me. I don't push away when he wraps his arms around me, not because I forgive him or because I love him like he loves me, but because the past is behind us and I want to leave without regretting anything. And I know I would regret hurting Gale. "I'm sorry." He says quietly and I don't respond, I just look at him and wonder what would happen to him. Next year Gale would start work in the mines. Then who would hunt? Who would sustain his family of himself, his mother, two little brothers and little Posy? Any hope of him being able to help my mother and Prim disappears with this realization. He notices my defeated expression. "I'll try, Katniss. I'll try to help them." The door opens and the Peacekeeper who I now deem as the Hatekeeper motion for Gale to leave. When he doesn't Hate twists his arms behind his back and shoves him away. Gale looks at me over his shoulder. "Katniss! Remember I-!" The door is slammed shut and I will never know what he wanted me to remember.

* * *

A shout-out to team peeta for being the first reviewer!


	4. Train Rides

Well hello there dear readers! Sorry about the lack of updates, school's insane and finals are coming up plus I've been super busy with my horse. Next chapter should be up on Monday (hopefully). Hope you like it!

* * *

Train Rides

Camera crews, Peacekeepers and foreign faces descend on me as I exit the Justice Building through it's back door. This is strategic so that I don't see the Town Square where all of District 12 is viewing the Reapings of the other districts. I think about Prim, was she there? Was she still being forced to watch or would the poor girl who'd lost her sister be able to go home? It was mandatory to watch the major footage of the games, including the Reapings which were spread throughout the day so that they could be seen live. They ending in early evening and the families who disperse and go home to enjoy a meal. Some would be relieved that- if only for another year- they were safe. Others, my own, would grieve and weep. I had heard them last year, the mother and father of a thirteen year old Seam boy who had been Reaped, they were crying, the feast they'd spent the day preparing went untouched. I wondered if the fish, the strawberries and the blackberries, bread and fresh greens I'd spent the morning collecting, would be enjoyed.

I try to shake off thoughts about my family. I _had _promised Prim that I would try to win and so it was best if I got my head into Game-mode. Worry about them was useless because one, I couldn't do anything about it and two, they could take care of themselves. What I should worry about now is my stance, how I wish to appear on camera, because right now there are half a dozen aimed at my face.

Collected.

That is what I come up with as I force each step towards the awaiting train. My face betrays no emotion, only a steady calm. I make my stride less stiff and more smooth, force myself to stop clenching my cameras move their focus away from me and I know it must be because Peeta is on his way out of the building. Sure enough, he is just closing the door, his eyes clearly rimmed with red. We lock eyes for a moment and I shake my head ever so slightly. There are to be no friendly exchanges on camera.

I board the train alone and find myself in a large car with a sitting area in one half and an elaborate mahongony table with expensive-looking dishes covering it's surface. The chairs of the sitting area are made of some plush material I don't recognize. Little blue and yellow flowers sit in a glass vase on a coffee table which also holds books and magazines for entertainment. The curtains, carpet, silverware, platters, the big flat-screen TV on the right wall, everything in here is worth more than anything I'd ever owned. I can't imagine the wealth needed to furnish only this car and the many more besides.

Peeta enters moments later and I see his eyes widen as he too takes in everything. His eyes then settle on my and as usual a crimson blush paints my cheeks, even under these circumstances.

"Quite the day, huh?" Peeta shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. My mind rushes back to that day in the hallway where I struggled to explain my gratitude for that burnt bread. He picks his head up and searches my face with those familiar blue eyes. I close the distance between us quickly and fall into his welcoming arms. "I'm scared, Katniss."

The tears I had fought to control all afternoon come to me now like a torrent of rain. Our situation is so desperate, so hopeless and there's nothing we can do. I promised Prim I would try to win, but if I succeeded then Peeta would never get to see his family again. Or if he did, I would be long dead, buried in the Tribute's Cemetery in the Capitol or six feet under back here in District 12. It wasn't fair.

"Oh Peeta." I manage to croak out before I dissolve into sobs. He is steady as a rock though, most likely having cried himself out already. _Or_, a tiny voice in my head said, _he may just be being strong for you._ The idea seemed inconceivable but his next words confirmed it. "I want you to win."

I look up at him and there is hard determination in his eyes as well as something else I couldn't place. "Why?" _Why don't you want to win? Why don't you want to come home? Why are you being kind to me when we might have to kill each other?_

"Because you can. Your a hunter, Katniss. I've seen your skill with a bow, you never miss. You can take care of yourself. And..." Tears threaten to escape from his eyes and he struggles to continue speaking. "I want you to come home, see your family again. They need you..."

I reach up and wipe away a single tear from his cheek. "Peeta," I whisper but I don't know what to say. Lucky for me Peeta always knows what to say.

"Besides, if I won, I'd never be able to live without you." The words hang between us like a tangible object. He leaves me speechless again but I don't have to worry about that because we're leaning towards each other and our lips meet. Except for that horrible mishap with Gale, I'd never really kissed anyone. Sure, I had thought about kissing Peeta lots of times but I'd never had the nerve to do it. But here, on the train to the Capitol where we may meet our deaths, I am initiating a kiss with Peeta Mellark and he is kissing me back.

I can't help but smile through the tears.

* * *

My eyes must be about as big as the dinner plate I'm looking at as we sit down to dinner. There is a thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit and for dessert, a chocolate cake. I've never seen food like this, not even at a celebration like the ones the district held for weddings or funerals. It was enough to feed my family for a week. Yet I eat every bit that I can because it wouldn't hurt to put on some weight between now and the Games.

Peeta sits beside, holding my hand under the table. Haymitch had been the one to find us earlier, broken apart from this kiss but still standing the door way in a way too intimate for tributes to be. We had jumped instantly and I don't think I had ever turned so red. He made some comment about teenagers and lousy tributes and gone off to the bar. So much for our mentor. He had yet to show up to dinner and so we sat there in silence while Effie chatted away.

"... so much better than last year's tributes who had no manners..." I try not to glare at her as she makes what she believes to be an innocent compliment. Of course those kids ate like they'd never seen food. They we a couple of scrawny Seam kids who _hadn't _ever seen food. My temper is about to boil over when a very drunk Haymitch Abernathy stumbles into the dining room.

"Lovebirds" He mumbles and I realize he hasn't missed the fact that mine and Peeta's hands are still joined beneath the table. I pull my hand away and feel the familiar blush spread up my face. Peeta brushed the comment off with cool ease and starts firing questions at Haymitch. He respond with a laugh and "Here's some advice. Stay Alive.". Disgusted, I push my chair back and prepare to leave.

I am turning away and just rising out of my seat when I hear "That's very funny. Only not to us." and the sound of a fist making contact. I turn and am met with the sight of Haymitch punching Peeta square in the jaw. Before our inebriated mentor and my fellow tribute can react I jam my knife into the table between them. Haymitch runs his hand over his scruff of a beard and regards us with... respect?

"Well, what's this? Have I actually got a pair of fighters this year?"

Haymitch agrees to help us and gives a few instructions on how to behave in the coming hours. We will be handed off to our prep teams tomorrow to get ready for the Tribute Parade where we will be on display for all of the Capitol to see. And while I'm glad for the advice, all I'd really like to do right now is sleep. Haymitch must pick up on my drooping eyelids because he sends us off to bed a short while later.

My little room on the train is as equally lavish as the dining room and I immediately fling myself onto the soft down comforter. I drag myself up though, as I am in need of a shower and have to change our of my mother's dress. I take care to re-pin the golden mockingjay on the green shirt I pull on. I can almost picture the bird, golden and gleaming, flying against the green of the forest.

I toss and turn for half of an hour but my tired mind refuses to shut down. Eventually I give up and tip toe to the room ajacent to mine. It is nearly identical aside from the lone figure sitting on the bed, facing the window where the night landscape rushes by. Peeta's eye flick to the doorway and I get a clear view of the swelling on his cheek.

I sit beside him and we stay there, in comfortable silence until the early hours of the morning where we fall asleep in each others arms.

* * *

**Review and you get to kiss Peeta ;)**


	5. The Visitor

And now we're getting down to that deviation from the original. I had kinda of hard time writing this, I mean was Seneca Crane good or bad? He is a very overlooked, complex character in my opinion! Anywho...

* * *

A Visitor

Seneca Crane heaved a large sigh as he gathered up his belongings and ended a long day at work. This was his first year at his new position of Head Gamekeeper. With the Reapings finished and the new tributes on the way to the Capitol, he had a lot to do. The day had been a tiring one and all he wanted to do was retire to his apartment. Though his pride allowed him some joy as his new position was one of the highest in all of Panem. He had gotten the promotion on account of his input in last year's Games.

It was a moderate setting- an expanse of frozen tundra with an evergreen forest containing food- if you could find it. Rabbits and mice were the most abundant game and there were edible plants too. The was plenty of water provided in the cold streams that ran from a glacier at the northern side of the arena. For being frozen and snow-covered, the arena wasn't horribly cold. The last thing the Capitol wanted was to watch the tributes freeze to death. So the temperature hovered around 10°C.

The bloodbath was particularly bad but it weeded out the weak, leaving seven capable tributes to fight to survive. The remainder of the Games were quite uneventful though. With so few tributes left there wasn't much reason for the Gamekeepers to get involve, else the Games be too short. So one week later when only five remained, Seneca Crane had an idea.

He suggested that the final five victors be called to a feast. It required them to come unarmed, to the Cornucopia, gather their needed materials and parts in total opposite directions. Of course the two remaining Career tributes brought along their swords and spears and finished off the other three who, young and naive, had come unprepared. With the two tributes left, from the same district no less- they were forced to abandon their alliance and fight each other. The Capitol had loved it. It was tragic, entertaining and got them involved. A near perfect Games and the shortest in history. President snow had loved it too and so Seneca was appointed as Head Gamekeeper.

Ruby and Zenyatta. From District 1.

Seneca afforded himself a smile as he remembered the cheers from his fellow Gamekeepers as Ruby dropped her blood-coated sword and grinned at the camera, stationed on the Cornucopia, in triumph.

The man shook his head a bit, though, as he remembered the reason for his success; forcing children to kill one another. But that was the world they lived in and no one saw the genius act as despicable. It was just a game, after all.

This year would hardly be different. A forest instead of tundra but still 23 kids who would die, 1 who would win. Seneca had learned to be immune to the effects of what he did. Although this was his first year on top, he had been a Gamekeeper for nearly eleven years. In the whole of that time he only really remembered the names of two tributes he'd watched. Ruby and Zenyatta.

Seneca shut off the lights in the big room of equipment where he would spend every waking minute in the next couple of weeks. Again he was thankful he could go home that evening. He retrieved his keys to lock the door, as it's contents were highly prized and likely to be stolen, when he heard a sound. A slight buzzing, like the vibration of a fly's wings. He must be more tired than he thought.

The subways was less crowded today as many people were home, watching replays of the Reapings and getting ready for the Tributes Parade tonight. Tonight was about the stylists and the camera-crews and therefore he wasn't needed to participate. He would show up to converse with the sponsers perhaps and then he would go back home.

Then, on his front steps, the buzzing started up again. It gradually grew louder to the point where it invaded his sense and, as though jumping into sudden clarity, time seemed to slow. Like extracting a sliver embedded in the skin, a silver object slowly pulled itself from thin air. Seneca could feel his jaw dropping at a rate about three times too slow. As the object totally emerged from wherever it had come from, time regained it's normal pace. The thing dropped to the ground and bravely, if not somewhat stupidly, Seneca approached it. A voice in his head told him to be cautious but his curiosity overroad it.

It was the color of polished silver, gleaming brightly in the setting sun. Its shape was like that of a cellular phone- an artifact from North America- with a screen and a keypad beneath it. Seneca picked it up, gingerly cradling it in his palm. He nearly shrieked when the screen buzzed and a face appeared there.

President Snow, looking older and more haggard than he had ever seen him, starred at Seneca Crane. He began speaking almost at once.

"Seneca! Thank goodness I've located you. Are you alone?" All the man could do was nod as he starred in wonder at the screen. "I'm from the future. One and a half years from now. Do you understand this?"

Finding his voice, Seneca answered with a firm "Yes." although his mind hadn't totally wrapped around the idea that he was communicating with a future Snow.

"The District 12 tributes, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, _must not win the Hunger Games. _Do you understand me? _They cannot live! _Seneca! Seneca!" He couldn't help himself. He had laughed. _District 12? Since when has District 12 ever been a threat? _But with the urgency and anger in the President's voice he shut himself up and nodded for Snow to proceed. "Don't underestimate them. This year's tributes are fighters. To the point where they spark a rebellion. They must not be allowed to win. Yes I know what you're thinking, _two victors? _Actually, I'd like for it to happen. What would've happened- had I not intervened with this device- would be that Katniss and Peeta- lovers who played upon the Capitol's emotions- would've been the last remaining tributes. When they were forced to fight one another they instead opted to kill themselves. That couldn't happen so YOU compromised and let them both win." Snow paused and conveniently left out the part of Seneca's own execution. "This started a rebellion. The district believe that we weren't totally in control and they revolted. You understand, then, the urgency of the situation?"

"Of course, I'll do everything I can to make sure they don't win."

"Good. However, I do want things to be different this year. There will be two victors from the same district who can come out alive. Arrange it so that District 2 wins. Their names are Cato and Clove. They may be what we need to ensure that rules can be compromised without our power being compromised. It'll teach the districts a lesson they'll never even know they've learned."

"Excellent idea." Seneca said and flashed a smile towards the screen. He was fully in control of himself now and the genius that had made the Games last year was already preparing how to perfect them this year.

* * *

**If you read, you will be held, by law, to review. Otherwise President Snow will excecute you!**


End file.
